


light one up (and hand it over)

by dansaeg_hwa



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hackers, Assassins & Hitmen, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Incomplete, Insomnia, Japan, M/M, Nightmares, Violence, Work In Progress, because i don't know what the fuck this is going to be, more tags to come, this is probably a prequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 13:48:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11105832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dansaeg_hwa/pseuds/dansaeg_hwa
Summary: Trust is a dangerous thing to meddle with, but they've both been betrayed too many times. One trusts too little, the other trusts too much, but two imperfect pieces can form a perfect whole.





	light one up (and hand it over)

**Author's Note:**

> nyello it me  
> I have returned after 164312316 years  
> ok so here's this assassin/ hacker/ secret agent shit i don't even know AU  
> this is a prequel and there will be a main story  
> eventually  
> maybe  
> i hope  
> so anyways... title is from a Halsey song (i think it took me longer to choose the title than to write this chapter sdgergdff), and the summary is so fucking sappy omg but since this is all I've written so far, I don't really know where I'm going with this, so i'm just gonna keep it nice and vague :)  
> so enjoy this bullshit~ (hope there's no typos)

 ‘Alpha to White Dog, have you identified the target?’ The voice crackles in the receiver and Sehun adjust his hold on his phone, taking a sip from his water bottle. Closing the cap, he puts it away into his backpack, tipping the brim of his kasa down. The loud, echoing voice coming from the speakers announces the delay of a train. Platform 4 heading to Osaka, delayed by 5 minutes due to technical difficulties. Sehun shifts in his seat in the waiting room, eyes flitting up to the display screen.

 ‘Target is sitting approximately 5 meters from me. He has two bodyguards with him. Are there any security cameras available for you?’

 He crosses his legs, grabbing the newspaper from the empty seat next to him and skimming the front page before flattening it out and moving it rapidly up and down in an imitation of a fan. It’s boiling hot; Japan is at the peak of summer and there’s no relief to the uncomfortable heat. Sehun’s shirt is sticking to his frame with perspiration, and he’s glad he’s wearing civilian clothes.

 ‘I’ve hacked into one, your top right in the corner. I’m observing the target now. Are the bodyguards armed? They’re standing with their back to me.’

 Sehun chuckles, pressing the phone to his ear. They would’ve normally used earpieces, but that would be suspicious, and Sehun is trying to be as subtle as possible. He feels the head of his handgun press into his hip and shifts again to make is less visible.

 ‘Each has a handgun.’ Sehun’s eyes flit over the two men, squinting in concentration. ‘Both have knives strapped to their ankles. One’s got a… taser in his pocket. Not excessively armed.’

 Chanyeol’s laugh crackles in the receiver. ‘Good job. Yes, that’s not very much.’

 They’re speaking in Korean; there’s rarely anyone that would understand, and Sehun is keeping his voice quiet. It was actually a huge coincidence that so many Koreans were hired as assassins for the same company. And by many, Sehun really means three. They’re at a huge advantage, because while Chanyeol’s Japanese is amazing and Junmyeon’s isn’t lacking either, Sehun can just get by, so they can easily communicate when on a mission. It’s usually only the three of them, and Junmyeon doesn’t join that often. This time, Sehun was sent on his own, with Chanyeol behind the computer and on the phone as his guide. It’s not the first time they’ve done it, but it is the first large-scale operation that involves them moving out of the city to follow their target. They’ve planned to take action on the train from Nagoya to Tokyo. Sehun is waiting at a smaller station; the main one would be too obvious and it might get in the news.

 Well.

 It probably will anyway, since their target is a politician. They usually are, high-status figures, people of importance drowning in money. In the three years of this job, he’s killed a fair amount of people like his current target. They’re never world-famous, always replaceable. He can’t really tell the difference between good and bad, it comes to him naturally, like breathing, to kill. Without motive, just following orders, he doesn’t question what the person did to meet such fate. And it was hard. The couple first times, Sehun couldn’t properly hold the gun, couldn’t quite stop his hands from shaking and missed despite being an excellent shot. After months of harsh practice, he’s trained himself to become devoid of any emotion on a mission, going out with only the intention to kill. Like he’s two different people; his normal self, and the monster. He rarely sees the normal part of him.

 ‘You know what to do, right?’, Chanyeol says.

 Sehun hums. ‘Train to Shibuya at 16:05. Sit a coach away from target. An hour into the journey, set fire to the last coach, this will make people panic and huddle together. Sneak into the 1st class coach and take out bodyguards with a silencer on the gun. Take out target. Don’t kill any civilians.’

 Chanyeol clicks his tongue. ‘Well done, Sehunnie. Go to platform 4, your train is arriving.’

 Sehun stretches out his legs and stands up, swinging his backpack over his shoulder. He heads to the platform, reading the station list off the board, keeping an eye on his target from the corner of his eye. He hasn’t moved yet, but Sehun doesn’t panic; he’ll probably get in once the train arrives. Sehun checks his watch. 16:03. He yawns, lifting the kasa off his head to scratch at his scalp. Like this, he looks like a tourist, clad in jeans, sneakers and a thin t-shirt, a small camera hanging from his wrist to complete the look. His backpack is heavy, full of guide books to anyone, but in reality it stores equipment; ammunition, binoculars, a set of knives, a couple of hand grenades, water. His handgun is tucked safely into his jeans at his hip, concealed by the looseness of the t-shirt. He stopped feeling the way it digs into his side after a while.

 Unzipping the front pocket of his backpack, he rummages through the chewing gun, charger, earphones and pens to pull out a plain white facemask. He hooks it on his ear, letting it dangle at the side of his face, while he closes the backpack and slides the strap onto his other shoulder. Slipping the other string on, he puts the mask into place. This completes the tourist look, although Sehun finds it slightly harder to breathe. His watch shows 16:04. His target stands up, brushing invisible dust from his thighs, and starts walking towards the platform, the bodyguards in tow. Sehun narrows his eyes, and brings the phone back to his ear.

 ‘Target approaching.’

 ‘Stay put. The train is 23 seconds away. Wait until he comes closer, and get in after him.’

 ‘How many coaches are there?’

 ‘Uh..’ Sehun hears Chanyeol typing rapidly. ‘6 including the 1st class coach. There’s no people in second half of the last coach. Sit in the 2nd one, as close to the door as you can. I’ll hang up once you get on, there’ll be bad signal because of tunnels. Set a timer for 1 hour on your phone, that’s when you should be in the middle of nowhere with no near stations. I’ll call you again then.’ 

 ‘What will I do for an hour if I don’t talk to you?’

 Chanyeol chuckles. ‘I don’t know. Admire the scenery.’ 

 ‘There’s no scenery to admire.’, Sehun huffs. 

 A shoulder collides into his suddenly, catching him off guard. He turns his head to see one of the bodyguards. 

 ‘I apologize.’, the target says, bowing his head slightly. Sehun smirks, invisible behind his shades and mask. ‘First time to Japan?’

 ‘Yes.’, Sehun says in Korean, then feigns embarrassment. ‘I mean, yes.’, he says in Japanese, rubbing the back of his neck.

 The target smiles and nods. ‘Enjoy your time.’ 

 ‘Thank you.’, Sehun says softly. The target continues walking to the edge of the platform. The train arrives, brakes screeching, high-pitched. The doors open and a crowd of people rushes out. The target steps in, turning left to walk to the first coach. Sehun also gets on, sliding into the first seat before the door to the 1st class coach. He puts his backpack on the seat next to him and folds his legs up to rest his knees in the corner between the wall and the side of the train. He takes off his kasa to lean his head against the window. 

 ‘What was that?’, Chanyeol asks. 

 ‘Contact with target. I deceived him into thinking I’m a tourist. He didn’t see my face, and I spoke in a lower register.’

 ‘Nice. I’m off then. I’ll monitor the train. See you in an hour.’

 ‘Bye.’ 

 Sehun hangs up and sets the timer. He hopes the hour passes quickly because he gets bored easily. Plugging his earphones into his phone, he selects an audio book to listen to and gets more comfortable. He opens the foldable table and puts his ticket and phone on it, moving his backpack to the ground so he can extend his legs across the other seat. The narrator’s calm voice washes over him as he angles his head to stare out of the window, watching the houses and industrial buildings slowly fade away and give way to vast fields and forests. He closes his eyes; his head is bumping against the glass a bit so he moves again to lean it against the headrest, and soon slips into a light slumber. 

 He’s awakened roughly half an hour later. Jerking awake, he checks his watch; it’s too soon for Chanyeol to contact him again. There’s something going on in the 1st class coach, judging by the screams. Sehun stiffens at the sound of a gunshot, and opens his backpack to take ammunition out. He pulls his handgun out and loads it, putting the silencer on it. His eyes flit up to the ceiling; there are small windows, plastic or glass, the sky and clouds flowing by. Breaking into the coach would be too obvious, and he’s not sure what’s happening yet. He inserts an earpiece into his ear, and turns it on, dialling Chanyeol’s number on his phone. 

 ‘Why didn’t you call me, you asshole?’, Sehun hisses, keeping his voice low. The coach he’s in is nearly empty, but it’s still best to keep lowkey. 

 ‘The hour isn’t up.’, Chanyeol says, confused.

 ‘There’s something happening in the 1st class coach. My best guess is that the target has taken everyone hostage.’ 

 ‘Why?’ 

 ‘I have no fucking idea, but I heard gunshots. Do you know what’s happening?’ 

 ‘No. There’s no camera in that coach. Don’t go in though!’ 

 ‘I won’t.’ Sehun stands up, slipping his phone into the pocket of his jeans and slinging his backpack over his shoulder, fastening the straps over his chest. ‘I’ll climb on the roof and observe from there. There’s windows in the ceiling.’ 

 Chanyeol scoffs. ‘You’re mental. Everyone will notice you leaving like that.’ 

 ‘There’s no one in the coach. I have no other choice.’

 ‘Don’t interfere and stick with the plan! This mission, like any other mission, is not about saving people. Your job is to kill the target.’ 

 ‘I will do that.’

 Sehun walks to the slide doors, checking that the few people in the coach aren’t looking, and presses the ‘open’ button. The doors don’t budge, but Sehun expected that. He unlocks the cabinet next to the door with a lock picker and flicks the ‘emergency open’ switch. The door slides open, a gush of air forcing itself inside the train. Sehun watches the bushes lining the rail lines fly past and feels sick, but braces himself and slowly steps forward until the tips of his shoes are aligned with the edge of the floor. He twists his torso and reaches up, grabbing at the edge of the roof and quickly swinging his body so he’s hanging off the side of the coach, one leg twisted around the open door. He flexes his arms to pull himself up, groaning at the strain. It takes him a couple of tries, but eventually his waist bends over the edge of the roof and he drags the rest of his body up. He pushes himself up on his elbows and crawls to the 1st class coach; thankfully, the coaches are attached with no gaps. He reaches behind himself to unzip a side pocket of his backpack and takes out a laser light attachment, securing it onto his handgun. He edges closer to the window, making sure he isn’t visible from inside the coach, and peeks inside. All passengers are on their knees, the bodyguards standing in the middle with their guns aimed at one person. The target is still seated, talking to the person; it’s a middle-aged man with greying hair and a beard, dressed in a suit. Sehun squints, he can see the face clearly but doesn’t recognize him.

 ‘Report the situation.’, Chanyeol says, voice tense.

  ‘They’re holding everyone hostage, even though they’re after only one person. He looks like a businessman. E everyone is unharmed.’

  ‘Can you take out the target?’

  ‘I need to distract them so I can open the window, it’s thick and it would make noise if I shot through it.’ Sehun inspects the edges of the window; it can be opened from the inside and outside handle. It looks old, so the hinges would probably squeak. ‘I can… no, that would be risky.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I can throw a gas grenade into the coach, if I can reach the button to open the door without them noticing me. Then I can climb back up and open the window to take out the target and his bodyguards. The gas isn’t lethal, so it will only paralyze them.’

  Chanyeol sighs loudly. ‘That’s too big of a risk. There is a big chance that they’ll see you.’

  Sehun scoffs. ‘So what if they do?’

  ‘Alright. But you need to get off the train as soon as you’re done. Understood?’

  ‘Yes. Okay, initiating backup plan.’

  Sehun unzips the larger pocket of his backpack and rummages through its contents until he finds one of the gas grenades. He closes his backpack and puts his mask back on, sliding it further up his face so only his eyes are visible. He carefully crawls around the window to get to the door in front of the coach. They’ll know that someone is on the roof, that’s the only place the grenade could get in, and if the gas doesn’t work fast enough, the bodyguards will go after him and he won’t have enough time to get back to the window and kill the target. Another idea pushes its way forward in his mind, and he slips his backpack off his shoulders, taking out some rope. He leaves the backpack on the roof, and ties the end of the rope to the handle of the window in the front of the coach. He fastens the other end around his ankle, and tests it by tugging at it. Holding his handgun and the grenade in one hand, he pushes his body to the edge of the roof, exhaling loudly.

  ‘Chanyeol, pray for me.’, he says, and then flings his body down.

  He hits the side of the train, right next to the door. The rope is digging into his leg and blood is rushing into his head, making him dizzy, but this isn’t the time to complain.

  ‘What are you doing!?’, Chanyeol yells into his ear, but Sehun doesn’t answer. He swallows heavily, free hand sliding across the metal until his fingers make contact with the button. He pushes it, and the doors open. Everyone is at the back of the coach, so it takes them a while to notice what’s happening. Sehun transfers the grenade to his free hand, raising it to his mouth to yank the pin off with his teeth, and then he throws it inside the coach. It falls underneath the seats, rolling back with the movement of the train, green opaque gas filling the coach. Sehun jerks his body to the side, swinging to the middle of the open door. He narrows his eyes to find his target, who’s walking to the front of the coach to get away from the gas. Sehun raises his hand, activating the laser light on the handgun, a little red dot in the middle of the target’s head.

  Without thinking twice, he pulls the trigger; the bullet moves rapidly across the coach and smoothly penetrates the target’s forehead. The target drops dead on the ground, blood oozing from the back of his head onto the carpet- the bullet went through his head. There’re panic in the room; people are screaming and hiding under seats, clinging onto each other. Sehun squint to focus his blurry vision; he’s been upside down for too long and starts to feel a lack of oxygen. He brings his other hand up too to support the handgun and to stop his arm from shaking, moving both arms to fire again at one of the bodyguards. The bullet hits him into the chest, and Sehun prays that the shot was fatal. The other bodyguard is raising up from checking the target’s condition and running towards the door. Sehun panics as both of his hands start shaking; he clenches his jaw and pulls the trigger again, shooting the bodyguard in the shoulder. He moves rapidly, transferring his handgun to one hand as he swings away from the door, struggling to hook his ankle around the edge of the roof. He stretches his arm, panting, to grab onto the roof and pull himself up, untying the rope from his ankle.

  ‘Target is dead.’, he breathes. ‘One bodyguard is dead, the other one injured.’

  ‘Take out the other bodyguard too!’, Chanyeol huffs. ‘You’re so fucking stupid-‘

  Sehun’s mind goes blank and Chanyeol’s words become muffled when he feels a hand wrap around his ankle that’s dangling over the roof and yank, strong, pulling his back to dangle from the roof.

  ‘Fuck!’, Sehun gasps out, choking on air as he moves his leg, trying to kick the other man. His ankle eventually slips from the grip and he swings his legs up, moving into a squatting position. He can see the hands of the other man gripping the rail on the roof, his face appearing soon as he pulls himself up. Sehun shoots, twice, but misses. Cursing under his breath, he stands up slowly, finding his balance before running across the roof, towards the back of the train.

  ‘What are you doing? What’s happening?’, Chanyeol shouts.

  ‘The other bodyguard climbed on the roof too. He’s chasing me. This is like one of those fucking action movies, Chanyeol! Help me, you dickhead, you watch them all the time!’, Sehun yells, panicked, looking over his shoulder; the other man is picking up speed, running towards Sehun while he shouts something in Japanese.

  ‘Get off the train!’

  ‘What?!’ Sehun jumps over the small gap between the coaches. There’s four coaches to go, and he feels like he’s run a marathon, breathing frantically, almost wheezing.

  ‘ _Get off the train, now!’_

 Before Sehun can respond, he hears a gunshot, and there's an overwhelming pain in his thigh. He falls down onto one knee, breathing faster, almost hyperventilating. His hand is sticky with blood when he presses it to his leg. Maybe it is time to get off.

‘How the fuck do I do that?’

  ‘Jump! Fucking jump! There’s grass everywhere, you won’t get hurt, I promise. Just fucking jump, Sehun!’

  Chanyeol sounds hysterical too, voice an octave higher as he breathes quickly and heavily. Sehun stops running, leaning down to rest his hands on his knees, head hanging low, eyes shut tightly. He feels like he’s going to vomit; lightheaded and exhausted. He opens his eyes, watching the scenery rapidly pass. He exhales deeply, and steps to the edge of the coach.

  ‘I fucking hate you, and I quit!’, he yells, and flings himself off the moving train.

  The grass mutes his fall, and he tumbles down the hill, stones digging into his sides. His body collides into a tree, and comes to a halt. His head aches from the spinning, his side throbs from the impact of the crash, and there's sharp pain shooting from his thigh wound. He stands up slowly, disoriented, and looks around. The other man is at the bottom of the hill too, running along a lining of trees, away from Sehun. He shoots his handgun a couple of times, but the distance between them is too big. He sighs and starts running as well, as fast as his body allows him, which is still faster than the other, and soon he catches up to him. His heels dig into the ground as he prepares himself for a jump, and then he's tackling the other man to the ground. The man's gun collides with Sehun's temple, momentarily immobilising him as he tries to get up again, but Sehun catches his ankle and tugs hard. He hovers over the man, knee digging into his stomach sharply, hand reaching to his side. Only too late does Sehun realise that he lost his gun while chasing the man as he's yanked to the ground, a fist moving to his jaw.  
   
 Suddenly there's a gun shot, the sound ricocheting in the valley, and the man on top of him falls to the ground, dead, a wound right above his heart. Sehun pulls himself onto his knees, wiping blood from his face and panting heavily. In the corner of his eye, he sees something moving rapidly towards him. He turns his head to see a huge dog, galloping through the tall grass. Sehun tears the gun from the dead man's hand and points it at the dog. His hands are shaking, he notices. He doesn't want to admit how relieved he feels when a sharp whistle sounds, and the dog stop, ears and tail alert, its gaze still fixed on Sehun. He drops the gun and looks up, behind the dog, looking for the source of the sound. In front of him stands a house, made of white wood and brick, a battered, old car parked next to it. Stepping from the patio is a tall, slender man, holding a shotgun. Sehun waits as the man makes his way over to him, trying to stand but failing, his legs giving out under him. The man gets close enough for Sehun to see his face clearly. He looks about the same age as Sehun, maybe slightly older. His hair is dark chestnut, windswept and messy, bangs falling over a pair of wide, dark eyes. High cheekbones, chapped full lips, an attractive straight nose, caramel coloured skin. The man is dressed in a flannel over a white t-shirt, old jeans torn in various places, and a pair of boots. He grips the shotgun he's holding in both hands and points it at Sehun. They're about a metre or two away from each other. Sehun can see the man's hands tightening his hold on the weapon, knuckles turning white. The man notices him looking and raises the shotgun, his stiff posture relaxing a bit. He walks past Sehun and to the dead man, looking for any signs of life. Once he's done, he straightens up, satisfied with himself. Turning back to Sehun, his eyes flicker over him, landing on his thigh wound.  
   
'Can you stand?'  
   
Before Sehun can react in any way, there's sharp ringing in his ear, white noise coming from his broken earpiece. Among the uncomfortable noise, Sehun can make out voices, and his name being called over and over again. He rips the earpiece out of his ear, still wincing at the sound. It lands on the ground, and continues giving off the sounds. The man sighs, and crushes the earpiece with his foot. He then returns his attention to Sehun, who tries to stand again. His injured leg won't budge.  
   
 'Here.' The man offers him a hand. Sehun reluctantly grabs it and the man hauls him up, flinging Sehun's arm over his shoulder, his other hand landing on Sehun's side in a strong, safe grip.  
   
 'Um..' Sehun looks over his shoulder, at the dead man lying on the grass. 'Aren't we going to.. dispose of the body?'  
   
 'Oh, don't worry.' The man shoots him a small smile, and stops briefly to hang the strap of his shotgun over his shoulder. 'The wolves will take care of it.'  
   
 'The.. wolves?'  
   
 'Hm. Why do you think I have a gun with me? Not to mention my dog..' The man whistles again and the large dog comes running to him, slowing down to walk at his side. 'Oh, I didn't introduce myself, how rude of me.'  
   
 'Well, there wasn't much time for pleasantries..' Sehun comments faintly.  
   
 'Oh, surely you'd like to know the name of your saviour.' The man's smile turns smug. Oh, that's right. He did save Sehun's life, after all.  
   
 Sehun sighs and glances at the man. 'Right, thank you for that...'  
   
 'Kim Jongin.'  
   
Oh. A Korean name. 'Thank you, Kim-san. Um.. nice shot.'  
   
 Jongin grins. 'Thank you. I'm sure your shooting ability isn't that bad, when you're not in life – threatening situations. May I have your name?'

  'Oh Sehun.' Probably not a good idea to give away his identity to a stranger, but Sehun supposes it doesn't really matter anymore.  
   
They've reached the house while talking, Sehun notices as he steps onto the stone pathway. Upon closer inspection, the car isn't in such a horrible state he first thought it to be. It's parked next to a wooden shed, its roof shaded by a couple of willows standing next to the white house. The building resembles the American houses Sehun saw in films, with a big and spacious porch, on it a rocking chair and a sofa surrounding a coffee table; a stack of books next to the table and more volumes scattered on it. The entrance to the house is a double door, with a fly net. There's a big window next to the door, showing what presumably is either the living room or a bedroom, but Sehun can't really see much because of the blinds drawn half-closed. Jongin helps Sehun up the steps of the porch, and opens the double door, leading him inside. The dog obediently stays outside, guarding the front door.

  The interior of the house looks completely different from the outside. The front door leads directly to a spacious living room, auburn and brown walls setting a cosy atmosphere, complimented by black leather sofas and armchairs, a glass coffee table, and a large flat - screen TV with an impressive stereo set. There's framed posters, blown-up photographs and replicated paintings hanging on the walls in a nice pattern, French windows framed by heavy blinds and decorated with indoor plants. The kitchen, joined to the living room, isn't any less impressive; black cupboards and kitchen link, an island with stools, an electric stove and a small wine bar, lights hanged low above the kitchen island. There's a corridor leading from the living room to the right, but the lights are off so it's not clear where it's heading to.

 'The outside is misleading, huh?', Jongin says with a smile as he closes the door and toes off his shoes. Sehun stands at the wall, looking around and surveying everything. ‘Your name.. you’re Korean, aren’t you?’, he says at the look Sehun gives him.

 'Yeah, this... doesn't look much different from a Seoul apartment.', Sehun says quietly, switching to Korean, eyes fixed on the various laptops and other gadgets Jongin has on the coffee table. It's all high-tech and probably very expensive.

 'Please, sit down.'

  Jongin gestures to an armchair and Sehun sits, sinking into the soft leather. Putting weight off his bad leg instantly, he sighs with relief. He feels drowsy with exhaustion, the adrenaline fading from his system quickly, and he can feel every single bone in his body, every muscle, every nerve, aching and heavy. His head lolls back against the chair as he closes his eyes, breathing in the scent of his new surroundings. It smells fresh, a little bit like those cotton scented candles and vanilla, lulling him into sleep.

 'No, wait! Don't fall asleep. Stay conscious, I have to treat your injury now.', Jongin's voice sounds again and Sehun snaps back from his trance, cracking an eye open.

 'Are you a qualified doctor?', he croaks, voice husky with fatigue.

 'No, but I have basic training.'

 Sehun frowns. 'What does that mean?'

  'It means that I can make sure you don't bleed out.', Jongin grins at him from the kitchen. He closes a cupboard and brings a first-aid kit, kneeling in front of Sehun and placing it at his side, opening it and rummaging through it. He takes out a bottle of antiseptic, cotton balls and a roll of bandage. ‘May I?’, he asks, nodding his head towards Sehun’s thigh. Sehun hums quietly, and Jongin cuts a hole in Sehun’s jeans around the wound.

 ‘Ever been shot before?’, he asks, inspecting the injury.

 ‘No.’

 Jongin frowns. ‘Okay. Then this might be a bit more complicated. But, uhm… I can see the bullet from here. It’s not that deep of a wound, so… it won’t hurt. That much.’

 ‘Very reassuring. I’ll be fine, just go for it.’, Sehun replies, trying to appear as calm as possible even as he grips the armrests of the chair.

 ‘Alright.’ Jongin leans back down and resurfaces with a pair of tweezers. ‘On a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being the lowest, how much does it hurt right now?’

 ‘Don’t do this shit with me. Just go for it, _I’ll be fine.’_ , Sehun hisses.

 Jongin straightens up, holding the tweezers, hand bent at the wrist as he looks at Sehun with a raised eyebrow. ‘Attitude not welcome. I just need some measures. I’m not trying to do some therapeutic stuff to help you mentally ease the pain.’

 Sehun sighs. ‘7.’

 Jongin smiles. ‘Thank you.’ He puts the tweezers between his teeth and opens to bottle of rubbing alcohol to soak a cotton ball in it. ‘I’m going to disinfect the wound first, then take out the bullet, and then check if you need stitches.’

 ‘I know how it works.’

  ‘Cool. I just thought you’d still like to know. I’m starting.’

 Sehun tilts his head back against the chair and closes his eyes, breathing in deeply. There’s something cold and wet sliding along his leg shortly after, before a sharp, stinging pain erupts in his thigh. Sehun holds his breath, slowly counting in his head. 7, 8, 9-

 ‘I’ll remove the bullet now. Pain level?’

 ‘9.’, Sehun manages.

 Jongin’s hand gently holds Sehun’s knee as he leans forward. Sehun opens his eyes to watch as Jongin dips the tweezers into the wound very carefully, not coming into contact with the tissue as he extracts the metal from Sehun’s leg in a slow but smooth motion.

 ‘The wound is very shallow.’, Jongin murmurs. ‘But to ensure better healing, I’ll stitch it up.’

 ‘Sure.’

 Sehun’s eyes never leave Jongin’s hands as the other man prods the wound with a needle, stitching it up with fast and precise strokes. The pain is very prominent and it’s the only thing Sehun can feel, making him feel more nauseous and tired as the adrenalin from the events on the train still remains, his body tense, brain not leaving the fight or flight mode. Every time the needle penetrates Sehun’s skin, the pain intensifies, leaving him completely drained and overwhelmed once Jongin finishes with bandaging Sehun’s thigh.

 ‘Here, take this.’

 Sehun’s head raises from the sofa to see Jongin handing him a glass of water and a white chalky pill.

 ‘It’s only paracetamol.’, Jongin says at Sehun’s raised eyebrow. ‘It won’t get rid of the pain completely, but it will mute it.’

 Sehun places the pill on his tongue and his lips close around the rim of the glass, swallowing the painkiller. It takes him a couple of tries as the paracetamol keeps touching the back of his throat, but he fights the gag reflex and it slides down his esophagus. He hands the empty glass to Jongin, who takes it back to the kitchen.

 ‘You should rest now.’, Jongin says. ‘There’s a guest bedroom here. Or would you rather shower first?’

  ‘Are you sure it’s okay for me to stay here? I feel like you’re going out of your way to help me…’, Sehun replies quietly, glancing at Jongin, who gives him a smile.

 ‘It’s not like you have anywhere to go. The closest town with a hospital is an hour away. And I don’t think you’re safe to get registered…’

 Sehun sighs. ‘Right. Help me to the bedroom?’

 Jongin steps closer to the sofa and takes Sehun’s wrist, swinging his around his shoulders while his other hand wraps around Sehun’s hip; the same position as when Jongin helped Sehun inside the house. Sehun stands up, putting most of his weight on his healthy leg and stifling his groan at the painful throbbing in his thigh. They slowly start walking towards the dark corridor, Jongin pausing the switch on the light and letting go of Sehun’s wrist, who grabs on to Jongin’s shoulder instead. The walls of the corridor are a comforting light grey; a framed mirror on one side and a political map of Japan on the other side. There’s multiple white doors, and Jongin leads Sehun to the first one on the right.

 ‘My bedroom’s that one at the end.’, Jongin points to the door at the far end of the hallway, and pushes the door open, leading Sehun inside. The room is spacious, with large French doors leading the backyard, a double bed pushed into the corner, a TV on the wall opposite the bed, a closet, and a small seating set. ‘My friends usually stay here. It’s not much, but…’

 ‘It’s nice.’, Sehun says quietly, looking around at the faux crystal chandelier on the ceiling.

 ‘Thank you.’, Jongin replies with a smile. They walk to the bed, and Sehun sits on the edge of the mattress, toeing off his shoes. ‘I’ll let you rest. There’s some clothes in that drawer, so help yourself. I’ll either be in my room or in the living room if you need me.’

 Jongin winks, and moves to leave the room.

 ‘Wait. What time is it?’

 Jongin checks his watch. ‘It’s 18.32. I know that’s not an ideal time to sleep, but you really should rest.’

 Sehun gives a smile. ‘I’ll try. Thank you so much for everything.’

 Jongin returns the smile and walks to the door, closing it behind himself gently as he leaves. Sehun sighs deeply and reaches behind himself to take his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans. It’s dead, so Sehun places it on the bedside table. He grabs the hem of his T-shirt and lifts it up, pulling it off over his head, folding it and placing it on the ground next to the bed. The jeans are a bit more difficult to get off, but Sehun carefully lifts the fabric so it doesn’t come into contact with his wound. His whole thigh is sore, and every movement is painful; it takes him a good three minutes to take the jeans off. After folding them and laying them on top of the T-shirt, Sehun inspects the room in a bit more detail. The closet is too far away and it’s warm, so Sehun crawls under covers in just his underwear, moving to lie on his side.

 And stares at the wall. Chest rising and falling rhythmically, Sehun forces himself to close his eyes. Every time his eyelids become heavy, his vision is filled with images from earlier today. It’s mostly the bullet that he shot ripping through his target’s skull, over and over again. To be honest, Sehun doesn’t remember the last time he had a good night’s sleep. He’s haunted by his assassinations, and it only changes after each mission. The same flashbacks, every night, for multiple days, weeks of months, before his next killing. He can usually fall asleep for a couple of hours, but the images never fail to occupy his mind even during his sleep, morphing into more horrifying and twisted nightmares. The only time Sehun doesn’t think about it is when he’s concentrating and forcing himself to think about something else. As his mind gets tired and closer to turning off to sleep, the memories take over.

 And there it is, just as he closes his eyes. A gunshot, a splatter of blood, a lifeless body on the ground with a hole in its head. It’s a new image; his previous one was more bloody and involved Sehun getting physically involved instead of just shooting from afar, but it’s all the same. It’s murder. It’s a life taken that Sehun can’t give back. He always thinks of the targets’ families. Of their reaction to the news of their loved one dead. He’s never questioned why he has to kill his targets. What they’ve done to deserve it. No one deserves to die, and Sehun has never wished death upon anyone. It’s haunting; he’ll always have blood on his hands even if no one will know. But he can live with his demons in favour of the high pay. He wonders if he’ll return to the agency. For all he knows, Chanyeol thinks that Sehun’s dead.

 He turns on his back, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow and sighing again. His eyes remain open, staring into the dark he created, but even then, he can see it. He shakes his head lightly, closing his eyes and steering his thoughts away. He thinks of Korea, of his childhood and summers spent outside with school friends, of the dog his family used to have. Good memories. His first kiss. Graduating from high school. He falls into a light slumber as cherry blossoms fall onto the pavement.

*

He wakes up roughly two hours later, sweaty and panting, tangled in the bed sheets. His whole body is tense, the muscles of his injured thigh pulled taut, wound steadily pulsing with sharp pain. Sitting up, he leans forward, head hanging low, struggling to regain his breathing. Hissing, he massages his leg carefully, willing the muscles to relax so he can move. It takes him time to remember where he is, but no time at all to recall the cause of his nightmare. Slowly swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress, he places his feet on the soft carpet and grabs onto the headboard, standing up. He limps to the door, opening it and moving to walk into the corridor. Suddenly remembering that he’s almost naked, he opens the closet and grabs a flannel shirt, quickly slipping into it and leaving it unbuttoned. Putting sweatpants on would be too painful and time-consuming, so he closes the closet and makes his way down the corridor and into the living room.

 The guy- Jongin (how difficult is to remember his name, it’s _Korean_ )- is sitting on the sofa, legs stretched out and feet resting on the coffee table. He’s typing something on one of his laptops, looking deep in concentration with his eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched. Sehun slowly shuffles across the room to ease into the armchair he sat in earlier, bringing his legs up to hang off the armrest. It’s dark outside, but not night yet; the clock on the wall shows 9pm.

 Jongin looks up, and it’s as if he was leaving a zone, snapping out of his trance – face relaxing and a small smile forming on his lips. ‘That was more of a nap.’

 ‘I couldn’t sleep.’, Sehun replies quietly, staring at the floor.

 ‘Do you want some sleeping pills?’

 Sehun shakes his head. ‘They don’t help.’

 He looks up at Jongin, who’s no longer smiling. He nods curtly, chewing on his bottom lip. ‘…right.’

 ‘Thank you for trying to help, though. It’s just something I’ve dealt with for a while now.’

 Jongin hums, stealing a glance at Sehun and then looking back at his laptop screen. He starts typing again, fast. The stops abruptly. ‘Would you like something to eat?’

 ‘No. Thank you.’ Sehun hasn’t eaten anything all day, but doesn’t feel hungry at all. His stomach would reject everything now.

 ‘How’s your leg? Pain level?’

 ‘A 7. But that’s because-‘ Sehun cuts himself off. Oversharing isn’t a good idea. Jongin will ask if he wants to know. ‘… I was very tense. It’ll hurt less when I relax.’

 Jongin nods. ‘There’s a box of paracetamol in the kitchen, so ask me if you want it. Don’t exceed the daily dose though.’

 ‘I’m okay.’

 Jongin returns back to typing again, his right foot moving from side to side in a fast rhythm. Sehun leans his head against the chair and lowers his eyelids. The sound of the typing is soothing; he’s always preferred background noise, a habit from living in a big city. He closes his eyes completely, folding his arms over his stomach.

 ‘Should I put the TV on, or something?’, Jongin’s voice sounds, quieter than usual.

 Sehun shakes his head. ‘Don’t if it’ll distract you. And don’t mind me. It’s… too quiet in the bedroom.’

 He hears Jongin hum, and the typing resumes again. The atmosphere is calm and silence isn’t awkward, yet Sehun senses a curious vibe coming from Jongin. He sighs and shifts in his seat.

 ‘You have questions. Ask.’, he says quietly.

 There’s a moment of silence before he hears Jongin breath in. ‘How did you get into such a situation?’

 ‘Because of my job.’

 ‘What do you do?’

 ‘If I told you, I’d have to kill you.’

 ‘Oh, come on.’, Jongin laughs.

 Sehun smirks. ‘I don’t know why I trust you to tell this. I’m a hired assassin.’

 Jongin whistles. ‘So you were the one trying to kill that other guy? Because it seemed like it was the other way around.’

 ‘Well, it was, at that moment. He was my target’s bodyguard.’

 ‘Damn. That’s not what I was expecting. I thought that maybe you were a good guy. Like MI6 or something…’

 Sehun opens his eyes. ‘They’re not always good guys. And in this situation, I _was_ the good guy. I think…’

 Jongin has stopped typing, and is staring Sehun, his expression a mixture of interest and a hint of shock or fear. ‘So… who was your target?’

 Sehun’s face hardens. ‘That’s classified.’

 Jongin nods. ‘Fair. So you get hired by someone who pays you to kill someone?’

 ‘You have more questions than I thought you would. I think the term _hired assassin_ explains it well enough.’ Sehun stretches his neck, playing with the hem of his shirt. ‘What do _you_ do?’

 ‘I’m a computer engineer.’, Jongin replies, biting the inside of his cheek.

 ‘Uh huh. Which explains why you have all those expensive gadgets, a shotgun, and you live in the middle of nowhere.’

 Jongin blinks, and closes his laptop, crossing his arms over his chest. Defensive. ‘I have a shotgun to protect myself against wolves and other animals, as I explained. These are a part of my job. And I live here because this house belonged to my grandparents and I don’t like big cities.’

 Sehun clicks his tongue. ‘The way your house is furnished is very modern. You have a guest room, which means that rather that going to visit your friends, they come visit you. You’re hiding. Going to a city is risky for you. Your dog is very obedient, but listens only to you. You trained it to protect you from anything. Some of those-‘ he nods to the coffee table and the various pieces of technology on it- ‘are not available to normal customers. You were either in the army or the secret services. Something traumatizing happened that made you move out here into the middle of nowhere and keep to yourself, but you still work from home.’

 ‘Damn.’ Jongin whistles, nodding slowly. ‘Look at you, Sherlock Holmes. How did you get all that?’

 Sehun rolls his eyes. ‘It’s mere observation, you don’t need a special skill for that. Putting the pieces together is simple for someone with my training and job. I told nothing but the truth, so now it’s time for you to spill the tea. You may have a weapon, but I can kill you with my bare hands if I need to.’

 Jongin surprisingly remains calm, lifting his feet off the table to cross his legs. ‘Wouldn’t be my first death threat. I’m too young for the army though, don’t you think?’

 Sehun scoffs. ‘Spill.’

 ‘I’m a hacker. Kind of like Q in James Bond, you know? But I don’t have a fixed employer. I hack into systems, buildings, weapons, you name it. No one can find me here because the signal is bad and the house is protected so my location can’t be made public. My friends think I’m a computer engineer.’ Jongin switches his legs and looks up at Sehun again. ‘Hey, we both do something that’s illegal and dangerous- well, yours is more life-threatening, I guess. But let’s be friends, okay?’

 Sehun exhales loudly, air he doesn’t realize he’s been holding in. ‘Why did you help me?’, he asks quietly. ‘You could’ve just left him to kill me.’

 ‘I’m still human. I figured you were the good guy because he was in a suit. And you were injured… and you’re young. Why would I waste a life that’s barely been lived? That’s my reasoning.’, Jongin shrugs. ‘That’s all there is to it. It’s not in the human nature to help anymore, especially when in a crowd where you experience deindividuation, but I’ve been helped many times in my life so I should start repaying. Even though I’ve never met you before.’

 ‘Okay.’, Sehun nods, running a hand through his hair. ‘Thank you.’

 ‘You’ve said thank you enough.’, Jongin smiles. ‘It’s not that big of a deal. You’re keeping me company. I had to start messaging strangers on the Internet ‘cause I was so bored. So thank _you_.’

 Sehun hums, sinking into the chair and closing his eyes again. The sound of typing starts again, and the dog barks outside a couple of time. It’s different from the usual constant hum of traffic, but it’s comforting.

**Author's Note:**

> ya so.... idk  
> idk if i'm doing this whole assassin thing right idk how to write action scenes sue me  
> pls leave kudos or comments if you liked this shit  
> Especially please leave comments I'd love to know what i'm doing right or wrong pleaaaase talk to me  
> bye and until next time~  
> my [tumblr](http://dtagustd.tumblr.com/) and my [twitter](https://twitter.com/lizhythova) , come scream at me


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